Just another day 

Today is my birthday!

I’ve booked the day off, and I’m celebrating with a leisurely day: a hot bath, and a movie tonight (Star Wars, because Deadpool hasn’t opened yet) followed by dinner at a nearby pub. I’ve also hidden my birthday from Facebook notifications, and I haven’t made an effort to notify the people around me that the ol’ odometer (OLDometer – ha!) was about to flip. Why? Am I becoming increasingly hermit-like as I age? Am I having a mid-life crisis?

Maybe, and no. Beneath my layers of sage wisdom (lol) and child-like whimsy (I am, like, SO random!) lurk some deep-seated superstitions, mostly involving not poking the sleeping beast that is a happy  life. And that’s really what I’m living right now, so rather than tooting my birthday horn, I’d rather toot a regular everyday horn and enjoy the things I always enjoy and thank whichever lucky stars aligned to let me feel like almost every day is my kind-of birthday.

Work is a huge part of that. When I was little and was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always answered with “teacher”. I’m pretty sure I meant to say “Twitter”, though. That was pretty soothsayerish of me. I didn’t book today off because working on my birthday would have been a drag – I really just wanted to sleep in.

And living in a house that floats on the ocean is a sweet deal! Since I love canoeing, staring at ducks, and diagonal wood panelling, it’s my personal dream come true.

Another day, another bufflehead .

Sharing this house with Scott is a dream come true-er, too. It’s one thing to come up with fun ideas like buying a house on the ocean to live in, or adopting a second cat (not all ideas have to be wacky to be brilliant), but to turn to the person next to you and know they’re totally on board (sometimes literally)? That’s solid gold. When I was a teenager, a really fantastic adult in my life told me that the only way I’d get by in life was to find a rich guy dumb enough to marry me. I’m not the type to gloat, but I keep that memory around exclusively for the purpose of gloating. Wrong on all counts, awful adult from the past.

Come to think of it, I spent too much of my childhood fielding dumb questions and even dumber remarks. And here I am now, looking forward to just another day.

New Year, same ol’ Brandy

As always, my resolution is to have no resolutions. And since I’m almost a month late in declaring this, I’ve done an incredible job of sticking to them (yay Brandy)!

I quietly resolved to ride my bike to work on my first work day of 2016. On the eve of that day, I threw out my back in a mysterious accident (backcident?). New Year’s resolutions and I are not friends, and I’m not looking to become friends with them.

That said, I’m hoping to update more frequently. Or ever! Either works. I tend to post my random thoughts on Facebook, but I think this is a better place. This thing belongs to me and my name is all over it. It makes sense to make it more mine. But who am I? It’s been so long, right? It’s time for a new paragraph.

I’m Brandy (hi, it’s me)! I like cats and downloading apps that promise to make me more productive. I share a cool house – it floats on the ocean! – with a guy who is great and two cats who are cats. I have a job that I love, and while it’s not a secret it’s also not a hot blogging topic. I would say I’m living the dream, but a) I hope I’m not obnoxious enough to actually type out those words intentionally and b) I never dreamed this far. I would mostly say I’m happy, which isn’t a very deep well of writing inspiration, but ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I’ll see what I can muster.

Two cats is better than one cat (if you’re lucky)

Let me tell you about my cats

Max, a large silvery-grey cat, looks on at us lovingly.
That magnificent beast.

My boyfriend and I are lucky enough to have two cats, and the two-ness of that statement is a recent thing. Max has been our buddy for over four years, and adopting him was a dream come true. He’s friendly, chilled out, really silly, and super fluffy. When we introduced him to our new floating home, it took him a whopping 24 hours to get used to it, and he’ll spend hours sitting on the deck, staring at the water like a wistful sailor. Here are some quick Max facts:

  1. He loves bananas. The day before Max came home was the last day I was able to eat a banana in peace.
  2. He’s probably a Viking. We don’t know his true genetic makeup, but I’m sure he’s got a lot of Norwegian Forest Cat in him.
  3. I once saw him gobble up an entire (abandoned) spiderweb. So he’s not perfect.

It became obvious that Max was lonely. After careful consideration, we brought home a Hershey. Here are my favourite Hershey facts:

Hershey, a small bicolor Siamese cat, gives us a concerned glance.
“What?!”
  1. She loves Hawkins Cheezies, so we have a lot in common.
  2. If she had a catchphrase, I think it would just be “What?!”.
  3. She likes to bite my hair, right at the scalp, and pull as hard as she can, and that’s her version of “good morning”. She’s a bit of a freak.

How to force two cats to love each other

Thanks to our impeccable taste in adopted kitties, solid advice from the internet, determination and tons of luck, we made it through a few weeks with two very good catfriends. The BC SPCA has some solid tips for introducing a new cat to your existing cat (http://www.spca.bc.ca/pet-care/care-behaviour/cats/introducing-your-new-cat-to.html), and we followed them as closely as we could. The only advice I could add to this consists of two words:

Size difference.

We knew we had a huge cat on our hands, and we specifically looked for a small cat to be his pal. This wasn’t some selfish aesthetic desire; Max has been bullied by medium cats, and he’s played well with small cats before, so we thought a tiny feliney would be less of a threat and more to his taste.

Before becoming a multicat household, I daydreamed about two cats cuddling, following each other around, grooming each other. What I didn’t expect was literal copycat behaviour.

Two cats curled up in identical positions.
Both cats in circle formation, tails tucked neatly under chins, pretending to sleep. They are the same cat, and yet they are so different.

I catch them doing this all the time. The fact that Hershey is less than half the size of Max makes this whole thing impossibly funny to me. But don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of cuddling, and grooming, and wrestling.

I can’t say that everyone should get two cats, or that it’ll be this easy – I know a few fightin’ fluffsters out there. But it was definitely the best kitty decision we’ve made.